I'm a Witch?
by Muse's Echo
Summary: Rowan (OC) has been shipped off to Gravity Falls for the summer, and before long Rowan stumbles into the supernatural secrets of the town. After discovering a strange statue in the woods, she starts to develop strange powers. Who can help her learn to control them? Can she trust her friends with her secrets? And what do her dreams mean? Takes place about 4 yrs after the show ends.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Gravity Falls or Gravity Falls Characters. All credit to the creators (Alex Hirsch, etc...). I'm not making any money with this.**

* * *

"Rowan, darling, it's time to wake up!"

A cheerful call echoed down the hallway, causing a mass of long, light brown locks to stir a little, as if in protest of the disturbance.

"Rowan?"

Groaning, Rowan pushed herself up to a sitting position. Blinking, she pushed away the darkness of sleep on her consciousness, and an awareness of her surroundings began to return. The morning sunlight poured through the windows in her room, highlighting small dust motes dancing about above the floorboards. Her sliver analogue clock said it was 8:30. With a sigh, Rowan pushed herself out of bed. Carefully dancing around the piles of clothes and books near her bed and desk, she managed make it to the door.

"I'm awake, Oma!" Rowan called, forcing a bit of a cheerful tone through her sleepiness. It wasn't her grandmother's fault that Rowan had stayed up late reading.

"It's time for breakfast, dear!" Oma called.

Rowan replied with a quick, "I'll be there in a sec!"

After throwing together an outfit of jean shorts and a tank top, Rowan headed down the hallway, following the smells of maple syrup, pancakes, and bacon. _Yummm._ At Oma's, breakfast was always the best part of waking up.

Walking into the kitchen, Rowan was greeted with the sight of her grandmother cheerfully humming as she flipped a pancake up into the air and caught it perfectly in the center of her pan. At the ripe old age of 58, Oma was a tall, wiry woman with a bit of a whimsical air about her. She was fond of plants and old, unique looking decorations, and filled her little cottage accordingly. She was a warm - but perhaps distant - person. Back when Rowan was born, she insisted on never being called "Grandmother" or any other "unfairly aging name." Eventually, she settled on "Oma." (It was a childhood nickname, a shortened version of her full name, Leoma.) Overall, Rowan liked her grandmother, despite her weird quirks.

When Oma saw Rowan in the doorway, she smiled brightly. Her smile was always cheerful, and kind. When Oma smiled, everyone else in the room smiled too. It was truly infectious. Fully wake now, Rowan chatted with her grandmother casually, keeping her company as she finished making breakfast. A few minutes later, and Rowan was stuffed with wonderful pancakes.

"Ooooh," She groaned, "That was really good, Oma. Thanks."

Oma chuckled, "You're welcome, sweetheart. I love it that I get to spoil you for the whole summer." Oops. A sadness settled over Rowan, stifling the fun of the moment. "I'm so sorry, dear. What I meant was… Look, I know the circumstances that brought you here aren't good, but sweetie – "

"It's alright. I understood what you meant," Rowan gave a sad little smile. "Let's just forget it, okay?"

Oma smiled in return. "Okay, sweetie." Giving a small glance at the clock, Oma suddenly jolted into action. "Oh dear, I've got to get to the shop." She bustled about the room, gathering her things and throwing them into her ginormous, multi-colored purse. "Rowan, I've really got to go; do you mind cleaning up for me, dear?"

Rowan's reply was quick. "Of course not. Do you mind if I stop by the shop later?"

"Not at all, dear. See you later!" And with that, Oma rushed out the door.

With a sigh Rowan glanced at the kitchen. There were batter drips on every surface, and mixing bowls piled up high with spatulas and measuring cups. This was going to take a while. The whole time she cleaned, she felt a heavy feeling weighing on her thoughts. She pushed it away though, not wanting to deal with it. She washed dishes and wiped down the countertops. Somehow the stovetop was spotless. _Weird. Well, I guess it's just one less thing to clean._ Cleaning up took the better half of an hour. When she was finished, Rowan realized that she didn't have anything else to do.

She tried to read a little, but she couldn't focus. Even mind-numbing television couldn't shake her dark mood. Next she just lay on her bed and thought. Eventually her thoughts pulled her back to this morning's conversation with Oma. She thought about her parents. About their divorce.

That was the reason why she was here. To "give her some distance from the situation." Rowan sneered, suddenly feeling all twisted up inside. _Yeah. Ship your daughter off to the rundown town of Gravity Falls, making her completely helpless while you literally tear her family apart. That will make her feel better._ Tears started to prick at her eyes. _NO. I don't want to do this right now._

Taking several deep breaths, she cleared her mind, pushing away her concerns. Sitting up, she gazed out the window. The day was bright, and the nearby woods looked friendly. Thinking that maybe some sun would help, she slipped on a pair of converse and threw her book into a small satchel.

It was time for a walk in the woods.

.oOo.

It was HOT. From inside the cottage, the sun had looked inviting, but outside it beat down mercilessly. Sweat was already gathering on Rowan's forehead. She had been following a trail for about an hour now, and still had not found a comfortable place to read. _Ugh, maybe this wasn't the best idea._ But she had to admit, at least she wasn't dwelling on… on the thing.

Rowan took a deep breath. Looking around, she wondered if maybe the uncharted forest would be more intriguing. When she first arrived at Gravity Falls, Oma had told her to never wander off the paths. "There are many dangers out in those woods," She had said, "It would be easy to get lost and hurt." But who knows what secrets the woods in Gravity Falls held?! _Besides, the worst that could happen is that I'd be late for dinner, right?_

Two hours later, Rowan was hopelessly lost. Using her pocket knife, she started marking her path by cutting an "R" into trees as she passed them, but she wasn't sure it was helping. Trying not to panic, she sat down on a fallen log in the middle of a small clearing.

She was completely frustrated. Feeling the need to take out her emotions on the gentle peace of the woods, she cried out in to the silence before muttering, "Man, I am so stupid. No map, no plan, no path." She kicked at the dry, summer grass. Rowan took a few deep breaths to steady her emotions. _This isn't helping. I need to figure out how to get home._ When she looked up, she noticed a large, odd-shaped stone surrounded by wildflowers on the top of a small rise near the end of the clearing.

 _Wait, is that a statue? Who on earth leaves a statue in the middle of the woods?_

She walked up the hill toward it, curious. It appeared a triangle about 18 inches wide and tall, with an eye, wearing a top hat and a bow tie? One of its hands was held out, as if it was reaching for something. _What kind of statue is this?_ Baffled, she reached out and poked its eye. _This is so weird._ Knowing Oma, Rowan figured that this was something she might like. Well, maybe. Oma's things had a kind of elegance to them, and this almost seemed like a simple doodle-like creation.

Suddenly, struck by the absurdity of it all, Rowan snickered. Using a mock accent, she spoke to the figure. "You're sort of a dapper fellow, aren't you, Mr. Triangle Guy?" She laughed again. "I don't suppose you know the way out of these dreadful woods, do you? I'm terribly lost." She paused. "Oh! Where _are_ my manners? My name is Rowan Davis." She stuck out her hand and grasped the outstretched statue's.

Fire. Blue flames jumped up from the touch. Screaming, Rowan tried to pull her hand away, but it was held fast. The dancing flames raced up the statue's arm engulfing the entire figure. Crying, Rowan pulled desperately on her arm. The stone of the statue's hand began to flake, and fall off, leaving an indescribable black surface. As the stone continued to fall off, the progression moving swiftly toward the triangle's body, Rowan began to feel energy leaving her body. Her struggling grew weaker, her sobs came softer and slower, and she found herself sinking to her knees, her hand still grasped by the strange arm.

When the stone cracked and fell off the eye, the dark, dark figure blinked. Instantly, all the rest of the stone shattered, and the figure began to lift off the ground. Finally, Rowan's hand was released, but she was barely conscious enough to be grateful that it was unharmed from the flames. Above her, the blacker-than-night creature stretched out its limbs. The body beamed a bright, blinding light before fading to a sickeningly cheerful yellow.

 **Well, well, well! Somebody's got quite the power source there!**

Rowan sat on the ground. Shocked beyond reason, her tears stopped and her jaw chewed at the air, looking for sound. This creature spoke, without a mouth.

 **Oh, don't be so shy! All this was only a basic Axolotl resurrection spell. Heeeeeyyy! I think that's what I'll call you!**

Rowan finally found her voice, but all she could manage was a feeble, "What …what are you?" The creature chuckled.

 **Jumping to the good questions are we, Axolotl? For now, you can call me Bill Cipher.** He tipped his hat. **Not that you'll remember, but I'm a very powerful dream demon, and this,** he gestured to the black and white forest, **is the Dreamscape!**

Rowan didn't understand anything happening at the moment, but she knew that she wasn't going to forget any of this. "Why won't I remember?" She asked. The creature – Bill – laughed again.

 **There are some people who simply can't know that I'm back – NOT YET AT LEAST.** At the last part of his sentence his voice dropped deeper, horrifying and immense, and he was suddenly massive and red. All of the forest burned around him. Rowan screamed again, lifting her hands over her head, trying to shield herself from Bill's presence. But as fast as it happened, he was back to normal size and color again, bobbing almost innocently in the air. Tears poured Rowan's face, and sobs racked her chest.

"Please, please, don't kill me. I don't want to die. PLEASE!" By the end, she was screaming at him.

 **Now why would I do a thing like that? You're much more useful to me alive, Axolotl.** And with that, he snapped his fingers. Rowan was unconscious before she hit the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Gravity Falls or Gravity Falls Characters. All credit to the creators (Alex Hirsch, etc...). I'm not making any money with this.**

 **Note: This chapter ends abruptly! Sorry guys, it was getting too long.**

* * *

Rowan woke up gasping.

She was lying on her side on top of a soft, deep caerulean rug. It was beautifully woven with black and purple designs plaiting around each other in an elegant knot pattern. A moment passed before Rowan remembered: it was her rug. She was in her room in Oma's, in the center of the floor.

The next thing she noticed is that she was trembling, and remnants of terror raced through her veins. As her breathing slowed, she tried urgently to remember what had frightened her so deeply. She couldn't. All she knew was that it was _still_ scaring her.

 _What kind of nightmare did I have?_

Trying to pull herself together, Rowan gently pushed herself up off the floor. Only when she stood up did she realize that she had a massive headache. Wobbling down the hallway to the kitchen to grab some Ibuprofen, the girl fought with her own legs. It seemed that her body was dragging, reluctant to obey her commands. Reaching up for the medicine bottle, a sharp pain shot from her shoulder, causing her to cry out – in surprise mostly. Her right shoulder was acutely sore, as if it had been tugged on. Repetitively. With a grimace, she rolled her shoulder back. Blue sparks invaded her vision. _Yeesh. That hurt worse than I thought it would._ She must have slept on it wrong.

But wait. When had she fallen asleep? She glanced at the clock hanging above the stove. _5:57?!_ Regardless to when she had fallen asleep, she had slept the day away. _But I told Oma I'd visit the store._ Doing some quick figuring, Rowan found that she could still make it in time to help Oma close the shop at 6:30.

She raced to her room, grabbed both her satchel and a bike helmet, forgot to lock the door on her way out, and jumped on Oma's old bike. Dust kicked up behind her on the gravel road leading to town.

.oOo.

Sweat was rolling down her back and collecting on her forehead. The quick speed she was going wasn't physically tiring her, but the sun beat down mercilessly. A small drop of sweat rolled down from her forehead between her eye and nose, and rested on her upper lip. Annoyed, Rowan tried to ignore it. Man, the sun had looking inviting earlier, but now, it was HOT.

A strong sense of déjà vu suddenly struck Rowan. The mental blow was powerful, and Rowan wobbled on her bike, suddenly losing balance.

Stopping to regain her sense of control, she noticed that her heart was racing. It was that fear again. The terror she woke up with in her room was back but fading just as quickly as before.

"Hey, uh, are you alright?" A male voice interrupted her thoughts.

She spun around, spooked. However, when one is straddled on a bike, one cannot turn a full 180 degrees. Rowan suddenly understood this as she and the bike tipped toward the road. _Oh no._

The fall wasn't a _complete_ disgrace, she managed to stagger off the bike. But in trying to straighten up, she lost track of the ground, flailed her arms wildly, and ended up on her hands and knees…

Oh, who was she kidding? It _was_ a complete disgrace. Rowan gave up on standing and simply rolled to a sitting position so she could see who had surprised her.

And another surprise! There were _two_ of them; one was a girl, her long hair braided, dressed in a brightly colored romper and clashing leggings with a star print. The other was a boy, who seemed overpacked for wherever he was going. Seriously, that was one crammed backpack. They both had brown eyes and wavy brown hair, and they were about the same age, probably about 17. _My age,_ Rowan noted. _I didn't know this old town had kids my age._ The siblings – for certainly they were related, possibly even twins – seemed as caught off guard by Rowan's presence as Rowan was at theirs.

"So, um, hello," Rowan started. She gave a feeble wave. "I'm Rowan."

There was an awkward pause before another girl broke out of the trees, sprinting. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was panting, but somehow she still looked way too posh for this kind of situation.

"Guys! Are you ready? It's coming!"

The boy jumped into action. He quickly took off his backpack and opened it. The blonde looked worried. Upon realizing that the boy was still rummaging through his bag, her worry shifted to a look of near disgust. "You aren't ready? You said that you'd be ready!"

The brunette turned to her brother, and shrieked "Come on, bro-bro! I can hear it coming!" Only then did Rowan hear the harsh buzzing sound coming from deep within the trees. It was getting louder, fast.

"Almost, almost…" the boy muttered. "Ah! Here it is!" Victoriously he pulled out a simple red flashlight, with something attached to the light. In that same instant, a mosquito the size of a cow flew out of the forest. The boy and the blonde girl screamed. The brunette looked like she was ready to fight the beast head-on. Rowan's jaw dropped.

The creature lunged forward, its sharp, long mouth perilously close to the blonde. The brunette leaped into action. Rowan could not believe what she was seeing. The girl climbed up one of the creature's legs and got on its back. Using the ribbon from her hair, she had somehow roped the creature's head, and she started to literally pull it away from the blonde. She brandished a fierce war grin.

Unfortunately, the ginormous insect now focused its attention on her. Soon it was all the girl could do to hold on.

"Mabel! Hold on, Mabel!" The boy sounded concerned. He lifted the flashlight and clicked it on. A pink beam of light struck the creature, and it started to shrink. The brunette jumped off as it neared miniature horse size. Then, it was a simply a mosquito again. Before it could fly away, the blonde squished it beneath her shoe. She added a vehement, "And good riddance!" That's when she saw Rowan, still on the ground about 5 yards away.

She turned to the siblings and demanded, "Who is that?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! I'm back. I don't think many people are reading this, but you who are should know that I am just starting this story, and I have no intention (currently) of giving up. I like this idea.**

 **On the other hand, I'm not sure how well _this_ chapter reads, I wasn't overly pleased with it.**

 **Thanks all,**

 **Echo**

* * *

 _That did not just happen. That did_ not _just happen!_

But the proof stood in front of her, three teenagers recovering from taking down a monster. The brunette girl was tying her ribbon in her hair again, the boy was stuffing things back into his backpack, and the blonde was inspecting her nails. All as nonchalant as could be.

Rowan was still dazed by the sheer bizarreness of it. She simply sat and watched them, jaw dropped, until the blonde noticed her and asked, "So who is that?"

Suddenly remembering the girl on the road, the siblings spun toward her. The boy smiled and adjusted his blue and white cap.

Rowan managed to close her mouth.

"Oh, right! Hi! I'm Dipper," he gestured to the brunette, "This is my sister Mabel, and this," he gestured to the blonde, "Is Pacifica." There was a moment of silence.

The brunette, Mabel, smiled and asked, "Your name was Rowan, right?"

Rowan managed a nod, but something about her must have looked off because the boy looked concerned. He started walking toward her, slowly, his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asked her the same question as before, but now softer as if he was afraid a sudden action or loud noise would cause her to bolt.

Rowan focused her eyes on him, her mind oh-so-slowly leaving the impossibility of the situation and arriving at the reality of it. This had actually happened. She looked at him, trying to think. There was a really annoying image of a single, golden cat eye that kept filling her mind when she looked at him. What it was, Rowan had no idea, but the kid was waiting for a response. She decided to try to communicate.

"That totally happened, didn't it?" Rowan pushed herself up off the ground, and brushed off the dirt on her legs. Dipper nodded.

"Yeah, it did." The worry faded, and he seemed slightly proud now. "We do things like this on a regular basis – you'd be surprised just how weird this town can get."

This time, Pacifica spoke. "So why are you here, exactly?" But Rowan still _couldn't think_. She needed to get away from the boy. She needed some space. NOW. Backing up, she picked up her bike.

"I – I have to go. Now." Without waiting for a response, she climbed on her bike and pedaled fast. Someone called out for her to wait, but she simply yelled a "Bye!" over her shoulder and turned onto the road into town.

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other. Mabel was smirking.

"Well, that was rude." Pacifica stated. She was offended and entirely oblivious to the nonverbal conversation happening between the twins. With a grin and a glance down the road, Mabel was insisting that they follow the stranger. Dipper was feigning shock and shaking his head, saying that he had better things to do. But Mabel crossed her arms.

Rolling his eyes, Dipper broke the silence. "Do we have to?" Mabel nodded, her smile growing ridiculously large.

"Come on, bro! it will be fun!" Dipper sighed, shouldered his backpack, and started down the road toward town. Mabel skipped beside him.

Caught off guard, Pacifica had to hurry to catch up. "Wait, where are we going?"

"Come on, Paz," Dipper lamented. "Mabel wants to make a new friend."

.oOo.

Her grandmother's antique shop was a calming, relatively normal place to be. It was a shadowy place, clean and crowded with old furniture and trinkets. The smell of old books and stored clothes settled in the air. All this relaxed Rowan; it felt homey. The place was safe, comfortable, and _not_ weird.

She was in the back of the store, organizing different types of jewelry and cleaning them if necessary. The necklaces, rings, and earrings were old fashioned, but Rowan liked them. They had a certain charm.

Oma had lots of jewelry thanks to one particular family. A few years back, this family had lost a huge fortune, and ever since they've regularly sold old jewels and family heirlooms. When the jewelers and the pawn shop down the street didn't want something, the family would sell it to Oma. What she could pay for things was hardly ever what it was worth. But hey, cash was cash, and that was all the Northwests cared about.

As Rowan polished a particularly blue stone set in a thick golden necklace (not _real_ gold, otherwise the jeweler would have bought it), she thought about those three kids and the monster. She strongly considered the idea that she was insane. And then there was the fact that she somehow didn't remember falling asleep, or how she injured her shoulder. _Man. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I've cracked from the pressure of the divorce._ She didn't like thinking about that subject, but it seemed relevant.

Despite the strangeness of the day, Rowan found herself excited. If - and this was a big if - the encounter with the mosquito and Dipper and them had been real, then there were endless possibilities. What else was out there?

Rowan finished her chore, and got up to ask Oma what else she should do to help close up shop. She followed the sound of humming until she found her grandmother dusting off an old china display case. She seemed so at home, like she belonged here. _Hm, Oma has lived in Gravity Falls a long time._

"Oma?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Have you ever encountered any… oh, I dunno, monsters?" Oma stilled her dusting and turned, her long skirt dancing around her ankles from the movement. Her expression looked concerned, but there was something else in her expression that Rowan couldn't place.

"Monsters dear?" Rowan nodded. Oma's brow creased a little before her expression relaxed. "Well, none that I can think of at the moment." She laughed a little. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh… No reason." But Rowan was dying for an answer to this afternoon's encounter. Her fear had left her, and now she was only curious – terribly curious. Also, she really didn't want to be insane.

"Alright dear…" Oma seemed concerned again, but it didn't keep her from ordering Rowan to the store's attic.

The attic was a small, dusty place. It was only used for excess storage should Oma need to remove something from the store. And Rowan was pretty sure it was a graveyard. Once something was moved to the attic, it hardly ever saw the storeroom again.

A small lightbulb at the top of peaked ceiling cast shadows on pile after pile of boxes, old chairs, tables and chests. Peering around the small room, Rowan was looking for a suitable place for three ancient table cloths Oma had told her to put away.

In the very back of the attic was a heavy, black chest. She figured that that was a good a pace as any. Placing the table cloth pile on a precarious stack of boxes, she unlatched the chest and opened it. A strong herbal smell spilled into the dry air of the attic, infusing the air with a unique aroma usually found only in a meadow. The only thing inside the chest was a small, drawstring purse.

Fascinated, Rowan reached in to pick it up. It was made from a deep blue, soft material, and ornate, twisting patterns were stitched on it. The detail was exquisite, and the embroidery which covered the bottom three quarters of the bag reminded her of wispy clouds. It was old, that was evident from the style and make, but there were no loose threads or other signs of decay. There was clearly nothing in it; it hung limp in her hands, and the only weight was that of the cloth it was made from.

Putting the bag aside, Rowan folded the table cloths into the chest. When she went to put the bag away though, something inside her resisted. She _liked_ this bag. So instead, she closed the trunk and took the purse with her downstairs.

Clicking off the lightbulb, she didn't notice the strange triangle symbol on the trunk glow with a golden light for a moment in the dark room before fading away.


	4. Chapter 4

When Rowan reached the bottom of the ladder to the attic, she heard voices coming from the front. _That's odd. It's past closing time. Who did Oma let in?_

An oaken wardrobe blocked her view of the front desk, but it sounded like there were at least two customers. Still holding the bag, Rowan looked around the wardrobe and toward the desk.

"So we were wondering if you had seen anything that looked like this." The guy's voice was familiar, and Rowan nearly gasped when she saw the three teens from the road. They were all gathered around an old book. Dipper was pointing to something on the open page and watching Oma's face carefully. Mabel was busy at a display, putting ring after ring on her fingers, and Pacifica was fixing her hair in an old mirror.

 _So. At least they are real._ At the sight of the teens, Rowan's doubts abandoned her. She knew the encounter on the road to be true. Entirely true. Now she had to figure out what to do with that information.

Rowan watched from a distance, still partially behind the wardrobe, as Oma talked with Dipper. Oma seemed to know the group well. Shortly, she gestured in the general direction of the bookroom and suggested that they look over there for more information. Dipper nodded, thanked her, and – after gathering his sister and their friend – headed over to the books. Oma pulled out a ledger and started her daily profit calculations.

The bookroom used to be the old master bedroom, but when Oma bought the place she turned it into a used book store. So, the books were separated from the rest of the store. As soon as Dipper, Mabel, and Pacifica disappeared into the room, Rowan approached Oma.

Oma must have heard Rowan's footsteps on the old floor because she was unshaken when Rowan spoke. "What were they asking about?" Oma replied without taking her eyes off the current figure.

"Some old science-y thing. I haven't seen it before, but I suggested that there might be some local research in the bookroom. Dipper's eyes seemed to light up. I hope they find something helpful." She paused for a short moment before asking. "Why did you hide from them?"

Rowan was caught off guard. She couldn't very well tell her still sane grandmother that these three had wrangled and shrank an elephant-sized mosquito. Fortunately, Oma didn't wait for her response. Sighing, she put down her pencil and faced Rowan. "I know it's scary moving to a strange town, and ever since you were a small girl you've been shy. But, honey, you should make some friends for this summer."

"But Oma, it's –"

"No, Rowan. I've made up my mind. Go in there and say hi. Mabel Pines would be a great place to start making friends."

"Yes, Oma." Rowan sighed. _Well, I suppose I wanted to know more about them anyway._ Approaching the door was a formidable task. Meeting new people always made Rowan nervous, but this was going to be weird, and she hoped they wouldn't think her a coward, or crazy – what if all she saw was a result of stress? This thought almost stopped her, but her curiosity still pulled her forward. _Was it real?_

As she entered the room, she could hear the friends discussing a whether or not this was a waste of time. She crept slowly toward the sound, trying to avoid all the creaking spots on the old floor.

Suddenly a blur, pink and glittering, swung out from behind the bookshelf right in front of Rowan. Rowan jumped back, yelling out of pure shock. Unfortunately, she tripped on a wrinkle in the carpet and fell over backwards.

"Mabel? Are you alright?" The concerned voice accompanied hurrying footsteps. The blur, or - as it was more commonly known - Mabel, giggled lightheartedly.

"It's fine!" she called back, grinning widely. "I found somebody though." Dipper, carrying an old book like a mace, appeared from behind the bookshelf with Pacifica, who held a crossbow at the ready.

 _A crossbow? Who are these guys?_

"Oh! It's you!" Dipper lowered the book, and reached out his hand to help her up, grinning. "We have got to stop meeting like this."

Rowan hesitated. There was still something about him that irritated her thoughts, but she couldn't figure it out. So, she accepted his hand, and smiled back. "I agree," she replied cheerfully.

There was a bit of an awkward silence after that. Pacifica decided to break it.

"So, did you want something? Or…?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." Rowan felt herself blushing. This was turning out to be even more awkward than she'd expected. She decided to resort to asking a question. This was a move she often resorted to when put in an uncomfortable situation. "I just really have to know… What happened back there?" The twins looked at each other, confused for a moment.

"Guys!" Pacifica sounded annoyed. "She means back on the road! With the giant mosquito?"

"Ooooohhhhhhh." They remembered in unison.

"That was just an accident. You see…" Dipper opened his old book and flipped through the yellowed and well-worn pages before finding the page he wanted. On the page was a sketch of some crystals and the title, "Hight-Altering" in beautiful, cursive lettering. He continued, "A few years back I found one of these crystals and strapped it to a flashlight. Today we were bored, so we were messing around with it, and the mosquito got a little out of hand."

"Honestly, can we just hurry up and find what we're looking for?" Pacifica had gone back to browsing shelves, but she didn't seem to be having any luck.

"What _are_ you looking for?" Rowan asked. "I might be able to help. My grandma owns this store."

"Really?" Dipper flipped to a different page in the book – Rowan had gathered that it was some kind of journal. "Well, we were trying to decipher this code. Not even the guy who wrote it knows what it means." Rowan was confused, but she had experienced weirder events than someone forgetting things. She moved toward the non-fiction section of shelves.

"Do you mind if I can see the code?"

"Sure." Turning to a new page in the journal, Dipper turned the book toward her and pointed at a page covered in symbols. "We think they may have to do with alchemy."

"Oh! I know these! They're old witch glyphs." Rowan turned back to the shelves and moved quickly toward the bottom right corner. _There should be a book right about…_ "Here!" Rowan pulled a grey, thin book from the shelf. " _The Wiccan Casters of Gravity Falls._ There's a whole section on old glyphs and their meanings."

They got to work translating. As they worked, Rowan began to feel at home for the first time in Gravity Falls. She suddenly discovered that she wanted to be friends with these people, and that she hoped they wanted to be friends with her. They were inquisitive, and fun, and they were as strange as the things they encountered. _Life with them would never be boring._

Within a few minutes, one of the cipher's meaning had been translated.

"Light of day come and be mine to command, to wield, to shine." Mabel read aloud. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe it's a riddle." Dipper said, chewing on his pen cap.

"It's more likely a spell." Everyone turned to Rowan, as if surprised. "Oh, come on you guys. You fought off and shrunk a giant mosquito, and based off the other things in this journal, many, many other strange and bizarre things, but you're surprised when old _witch_ symbols contain a spell?"

There was a moment's pause before they all agreed in a chorus of nodding heads, and "Yeah, that makes sense."

"So how does it work?" Pacifica asked.

Rowan thought for a second, trying to remember a conversation she once had with her mother. "Well, it has to be said in Latin – or was it Greek? To be honest, I don't remember. But, some spells work if they are said backwards." Dipper quickly scribbled out the spell on a spare piece of paper, spelling the words in reverse.

"So, that's 'Enish ot, dleiw ot, dnammoc ot enim eb dna emoc yad fo t-hgil.'" They waited for something to happen, but the semi-dark and quiet room did not change.

"That's a bummer." Mabel said. "I was hoping for some fireworks!"

The group looked a little disappointed. Somehow, Rowan felt responsible. Of course, that was ridiculous, and Rowan reminded herself that magic was not supposed to be real. Even so, she felt oddly certain that it should have worked. "Here, let me try." She read the words softly once to be sure she had the pronunciation, then – " **Enish ot, dleiw ot, dnammoc ot enim ed dna emoc yad fo t-hgil.** "

Suddenly her body locked into place. Rowan's chest tightened, and pressure seemed to swell and build, filling her. Her vision became blinded by a bright blue light and her scalp tingled with a strange energy. The others were plunged into darkness as the lightbulbs in the room shattered. Pacifica screamed, and Dipper pulled her under a nearby table. But Mabel stood, transfixed as Rowan's pupils glowed a luminescent purple and blue electricity sparked around her body. The pressure in Rowan's chest began to ache. Tears trickled down her face from the agony and pain racing through her body. Then, all at once, the energy left, streaming out of Rowan's fingertips and snapping into a small point in front of her. She felt this focal point more than she saw it. The blue light was dimming, and slowly her vision was turning a soft yellow.

Finally, she could move again. She opened her eyes and gasped for air. It felt like she had been drowning. But almost immediately she forgot to breathe again. There, inches from her face, was a ball of softly shining light floating in the air. Rowan wobbled, blinking. The light winked. She could feel a thin connection hanging in the air between the light and her mind, and a trickle of energy seemed to come from her, into the light.

Then, the connection was cut. Immediately the light collapsed in on itself and the room again went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

_So. Magic is real._

 _Magic is real, and I can use it. But it hurt…_

 _It scares me._

Rowan was back on her bed in her room at Oma's. It was dark and quiet. She had nothing to do but think of yesterday.

Waking up in her room, without memory of her arm injury. Bothersome.

Giant mosquito. That was bizarre.

Monster hunter kids. Weird, but cool.

And… and magic. Magic is painful and tiring

After the spell, Oma had rushed in, worried and demanding answers. Taking in the shards of glass covering the carpet, she had hurried to Rowan and looked her over for injury as Pacifica lied smoothly, playing the innocent, scared girl. She convinced Oma that they had just been studying Dipper's journal when the lights brightened inexplicably before shattering. Dipper added that it might have been a power surge, "And you know Mrs. Vesta, the electric wiring in this store is pretty old." Oma seemed doubtful, but accepted their answers when Rowan had assured her, "We're fine, Oma. I'm fine." Before long, she had ushered the three out of her store, and was driving Rowan home.

Rowan felt sapped. Casting that spell had drained her of energy, and now she was simultaneously starving and sleepy. The ten-minute car ride lulled her to sleep, and although she ate ravenously, she still was in a daze at dinner. The meal was a quiet one.

Seeing her exhaustion, Oma excused her from cleaning up, and Rowan immediately went to bed. She fell asleep with her clothes on.

At about 2:15 AM, she woke suddenly, terrified. She had dreamed yet another nightmare. She couldn't quite remember what it was about, but it was as distressing as before. She didn't know if it was the same dream or if it was just remarkably similar, but both gave her an impression of an inescapable holocaust. A tear trickled down her cheek. Furiously she swiped it away. _It was just a dream, it doesn't have the right to scare me like that._

She discovered that her leg was caught in the twisted sheets. Rowan guessed that she had been kicking in her sleep. It took her a moment to untangle it in the night's dark before curling up under the covers, hugging the blankets tightly. Gradually her breath returned to a normal pace.

Despite calming down from the terror, sleep still eluded her. Instead of being tired like earlier, her senses seemed hyper-aware, and she felt fully refreshed and awake on barely four hours of sleep (compared to her usual nine). After a few futile attempts to go back to sleep, she sighed. Maybe if she detangled her thoughts, she could find some peace. Rowan sat up and centered herself on her bed, situating into a cross-legged position.

Oma's place seemed to be a place of nightmares for Rowan. A while back, Rowan's family had visited Oma for a weekend in the middle of summer. One night, she started to cry out in her sleep. By the time her parents reached her room, she was thrashing about her bed, shaking and sobbing. They could not wake her until she woke up on her own, screaming about the sky tearing apart. Her twelve-year-old body shook with violent tremors. Her parents tried vainly to calm her fright, but it wasn't until Oma hurried into the room that Rowan's tears began to slow.

Oma had given her a dreamcatcher that night. It was a beautiful, hand-made creation. The tear-drop ring was made from a thin willow branch, and the intricate web was made from slender leather strings the color of pale sand. The web was beautifully ornamented with smooth jade beads. Oma had found the stones and shaped the beads herself. Three snow-white tail feathers hung below the magical web, eager to dance in any breeze. Curled up on the bed next to her, Oma lulled Rowan to sleep with the tale of how the native peoples of Oregon had formed these sacred devices to guard themselves from nightmares. She explained that the web caught all the bad dreams, while allowing the good dreams to escape through the middle and reach the sleeper's mind. Rowan loved it, and slept soundly for the rest of the night. When she left the next day, she took it with her. For the past four years she'd had it hanging above her bed at home.

Apparently, her nightmare that night was what doctors call a "night terror." This can be caused by location, so her parents had made the elective decision to never let Rowan visit Gravity Falls again. Rowan protested, but it made no difference. Not until the all-changing, dreadful divorce, at least. Her parents seemed to forget their decision as soon as it was convenient for them.

Rowan hated her parents for doing this to her. But, more than anything, she missed them. She missed them, and she ached for her family to be whole again.

The sliver clock on her nightstand read 4:38 AM.

Rowan breathed deeply. Then she made a decision. She wasn't going to get anymore sleep tonight. She slid her feet to the floor and made her way through the moonlit room to her desk, careful not to step where the old floor creaked. Clicking on her desk light, she blinked away the momentary blindness before pulling out two items from her satchel.

The first item was the ornate purse that she had found in the attic trunk. She admired it a bit, then placed it in one of the desk's drawers. The second item was an old book.

The dusty grey cover of _The Wiccan Casters of Gravity Falls_ felt soft on her fingers. She had managed to smuggle it out of the store in her satchel, despite her foggy state of mind. It contained more than basic translations of wiccan glyphs; it was a bona fide history of local magic users and covens. Using her small laptop to cross-reference information, Rowan dove into the twisty world of witch history.

From what she could figure out, there were two types of magic users – Magus and the Wiccans. Magus was the title for the very few non-natural users who could learn to use _very_ elementary magic through brutal training. Most needed the help of a supernatural being for the most basic of spells. However, Wiccans (commonly referred to as witches in some circles) were those for who magic was as natural as breathing. They could learn to harness their own life-energy and the life-energy from nature around them to alter their surroundings. These powers usually passed through the matriarch's family line, often – but not always – skipping the male children. There was a passage stating that these powers tended to manifest pretty early, anywhere from age 4 to age 10.

Could she always do magic? Rowan was thinking back through her childhood, trying to remember anything unusual. Nothing really stood out. But it was impossible for her to be a magus _and_ have successfully casted a spell, since she hadn't been through any training. And she had definitely cast a spell in the bookstore. (After confirming that she did in fact see teenagers rodeo and miniaturize a giant mosquito, Rowan swore she was _never_ doubting her senses again.)

 _Ugh. If only there was someone I could ask about my childhood, who wouldn't think I'm crazy…_

Then it dawned on Rowan, Oma might know. _That_ is _crazy. Oma doesn't know about magic._ Her thoughts travelled back to the story of the dreamcatcher. _But that's a local legend, anyone could know about dreamcatchers._ Still, Rowan had never had another nightmare, until, of course, she came back to Oma's of course.

Oma only had one child, a son – Rowan's dad. And the men of the family are not often Wiccan.

Rowan slammed the book closed and gave the cover a hard stare.

 _There is no way that I am ever believing that Oma is a witch._

But Rowan already did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow I had to fight some serious writers block there - so sorry guys! I will try to update more frequently than this, but I'm still muddling through some story points so it might be irregular.**

 **anyhoo, enjoy the chapter folks.**

 **-Muse's Echo**

 **(also I don't own Gravity Falls, the characters, etc. Sadly, that accomplishment belongs to someone else)**

* * *

At 9 AM, Rowan finally left her studies and headed down the hall for breakfast. She should be tired after spending most of the night researching, having doubts about her grandmother's honesty, and dealing with an overall existential crisis, but she wasn't. In fact, she was certain that she had never been _so_ awake before. This hyper-aware state was subtle, but everywhere Rowan looked the world was different somehow. The carpet felt a little softer under her feet. The specks of dust floating lazily in the beams of summer sunlight were more distinct. The whispering rustle of a window's open curtains reached her from the end of the hall. The texture in the old, flowery wallpaper was more noticeable. The small creaking in the old floor sounded richer, and the ends of her long hair tickled her back through the cotton fabric of her tank top. But she was most interested in the smell of the plants.

As with the rest of Oma's house, potted plants lined the walls of the hallway, resting by doorframes, hanging from the ceiling, and placed on tables by family pictures. Oma's green thumb bordered on obsession. These plants usually filled the cottage with a pleasant earthy smell, and sweet-smelling flowers accented the air with their pollen. But today, Rowan swore she could smell the fresh oxygen rolling off the leaves. She moved toward a curious vine with fuzzy leaves and inhaled deeply. The sharp, fresh smell was addictive. In her next breath, however, a warmer, more familiar smell wafted out of the kitchen doorframe and wandered into the hall to tempt her empty stomach.

 _Waffles!_

Leaving the vine, she shook her head. _Enough weirdness. I'm hungry!_ She grinned. Waffles were the best way to start the day in Rowan's opinion. Much better than pancakes – don't ask her why, she didn't know. Abruptly, it occurred to Rowan that pancakes and waffles are made of the same ingredients; they smell the same. But sure enough, as she entered the kitchen, a plate stacked with waffles sat in the middle of the breakfast island. _And the weirdness is back._ Rowan sighed. It was going to be a peculiar day and there really wasn't anything she could do about it.

The pesky thought that she should ask Oma about witches would not leave her alone, but alas, neither would her doubts about the subject. However, Oma was missing from the kitchen, so the question and its debate would have to wait.

"Oma?"

There was a clatter from the pantry, and a muttered, "By the oaks," before Oma stuck her head out from behind the door. She wore a cheerful grin, which strongly contrasted the irritated oath she had uttered a moment before.

"Good morning, dear!"

"Morning, Oma." Rowan smiled back at her grandma; Oma's moods were always infectious.

 _Now ask her._

Still standing behind the door, Oma challenged Rowan. "You'll never guess what today is!" Rowan, however, had no idea what her grandmother could be excited for. _June 14_ _th_ _? …It's not a holiday or anything, unless – Oh, NO. Is it Oma's birthday?_ Frightened by the thought that she might have forgotten her grandmother's birthday, Rowan froze. But Oma was too caught up in her cheerful mood to notice Rowan's stricken expression.

"It's Pioneer Day!" Rowan's concern quickly slipped into confusion.

"What's Pioneer Day?"

Oma's head disappeared for a moment, then she shut the pantry door, revealing her outfit. She was wearing a buckskin dress with fringe decoration. It was a light beige color and decorated with lines of blue and green beads from shoulder to shoulder. Underneath the blue-and-white striped hem she was wearing a pair of tan moccasins, decorated in more blue beads sewn in a triangle pattern. Even her white hair was braided into strands that reached down to her lower back. She looked excited. "Pioneer day is the celebration of the day Gravity Falls was founded. Everyone dresses up in costumes, and there is a fair at the town square. Everyone is celebrating the past, so this is a big day for the antique store. So, sweetie, I'm going to need your help in the store today. Is that alright?"

Due to some unlucky timing, Rowan had grabbed a waffle and took a bite just as Oma asked her question. So, rather than waiting to swallow, she spoke around the unfortunately large waffle-wad in her mouth. "Sure. I don't really have anything to do here anyway." _Except some more magic research._ Oma smiled and Rowan swallowed. "Now, the real question is: do I have to wear…" She gestured to her grandma's getup, " _That_?"

Oma frowned a little in thought. "No, I suppose not. Most of the youngsters don't. But, I do have something for you."

She rushed out of the room, and Rowan listened to the hurried sound of her footsteps moving down the hall to her bedroom. She glanced at the clock while grabbing the syrup bottle from the edge of the counter. The analogue clock resting by the immaculate stovetop read 9:12 AM. They were going to be late to open the store. Again.

Leaving the syrup, she stuffed the rest of her waffle into her mouth and ran down the hallway to her room. Rowan did her best to ignore the additional stimuli of the second trip down the hall, but it was like things _wanted_ to be noticed. Pushing the strangeness to the edge of her thoughts, she quickly found a clean pair of shorts and a mostly non-wrinkled top, then grabbed her converse and a ponytail elastic. After a moment's consideration, she shoved _The Wiccan Casters_ into the blue, embroidered purse from the attic and slung it over her shoulder, before heading back to the kitchen. Oma was still rustling around in her room. The clock now read 9:16.

"Oma? We have 4 minutes!"

"Yes, of course, dear. But first…" Unexpectedly, Oma's voice came from the kitchen doorway, catching Rowan by surprise. She held out a pair of earrings. They were made of small, soft feathers that hung down loosely from the hooks. "…These are for you. I made them from some barred owl feathers I found out in the woods." She paused, watching Rowan's face expectantly. Rowan thought that the earrings were beautiful, but even more than that, she felt drawn to them. In her new sight, the image of the feathers almost seemed to sing. Gently, she took them from her grandmother.

"These are beautiful. Thank you, Oma."

"Oh, good. I'm glad you like them. The feathers were going to be a part of my next dreamcatcher, but they reminded me of you for some reason." Rowan put on the earrings and stroked them, feeling their softness. They reminded her of her dreamcatcher. _Ask Oma about magic._

With a quick hug, Oma grabbed her purse and was out the door, calling for Rowan to follow. Oma talked for the whole four-minute car ride to the store. Asking her about magic and witches was going to have to wait. _Too bad._

.oOo.

The town square was completely decked out for Pioneer Day. It was all rather impressive. People travelled in covered wagons, nearly everyone was in a period-accurate costume, and even the policemen wore sheriff badges and carried only a bell, rather than their usual batons. Regardless, they had successful locked someone in the stocks by lunchtime. There were tourists milling about, obvious by their lack of costume. In the middle of the square a stage set up, and the mayor of the town had given a commencement speech, mostly consisting of the phrase "get 'em." Rowan also noticed Pacifica sitting on stage next to the town socialites, the Northwests. _Wait. She's their daughter! Pacifica Northwest. …What a name._ Pacifica looked uncomfortable, or extremely bored. Possibly both. Rowan tried to catch her eye to give her a smile or a wave, but she never looked up from examining her nails.

After the speech, Rowan was hurried back to the store by Oma. They had been quite busy. Apparently Pioneer Day makes all the old things fashionable again. Most didn't buy much, but Rowan figured that Oma was making a good profit regardless. She had a inclination to sell things for more than they were worth, claiming that their age made them valuable.

Despite the many customers, Rowan found herself rather useless. Behind the counter there was only space for one cashier, and most people didn't want help looking for anything.

She was playing with her earrings when someone tapped her shoulder. Rowan turned, shaping her mien into salesman-like charm. "Hello, can I help you wi— Mabel!" Momentary joy flowed through Rowan, before she saw what Mabel was wearing. Her somewhat-period dress was a bright pink and blue, mock-style pioneer costume, bedazzled at the hems. The bright colors screamed at Rowan, and it just seemed very… Mabel. "What are you doing here?" Rowan asked. Mabel grinned wickedly, looking very much like she did before wrangling the mosquito.

"I'm here to bust you out."

"What? Why?"

"Because you look utterly bored. And Dipper may have a few questions for you."

"About what?" The bell for the store's door chimed, and Mabel ducked down behind a dresser, pulling Rowan with her.

"When you hear the word 'stardust' follow me."

"Stardust? Mabel, what is happ-"

"Shh! Listen!" Mabel pointed toward the counter, and Rowan peeked around the dresser. Dipper was at the counter talking to Oma. He looked slightly nervous, he kept scratching the back of his head. After a moment, he pointed to a display case across the room, and they headed toward it.

He pointed to one of the figurines in the case and said, slightly louder, "Uh, that one looks like stardust… kinda."

Still grinning, Mabel took Rowan's hand and wove through the store's customers to the door, gently opened it, then pulled Rowan through. She raced off toward the other side of the square. Mabel was an impressive sprinter – despite her long skirt. When Rowan finally caught her breath, the first thought she had was, _I just ditched my grandma._

Mabel was beginning a victory dance. "Whoo-hoo! We're home free!"

"I just ditched my grandma." Rowan felt a flood of guilt crashing down on her. "Mabel, I just _ditched_ my _grandma._ Is there anything more heartless?" Mabel's grin faltered. Her happy expression crumpled, and she seemed to cave in on herself.

"I didn't think about that… If you want to go back, that's okay. It's just… Are you a wizard, or a fairy or something? What was that light yesterday?"

"Yeah, seriously, how did you do that?" Dipper had caught up to them, and had arrived in time to hear Mabel's question.

"Oh, that. Yeah." Rowan steeled herself. Admitting it out loud to another person was going to be even worse than she thought it would be. Saying it to someone else, would make it real, and magic and reality did not belong together. But last night, she had just cast a spell. And Mabel and Dipper had seen her, so it wasn't exactly a secret. Taking a deep breath, Rowan spit out, "IguessI'mawitch."

Mabel paused… "What?"

"I said, 'I guess I'm a witch.'"

Mabel's eyes widened, and her grin returned. "Cool," she uttered, in total admiration. Dipper was more skeptical.

"A witch?" Rowan nodded. "Any connection to the hand-witch?"

"The what?"

"A creepy old woman who once stole our grunkle's hands. Next question, what can you do?"

Rowan shrugged. "I have no idea. Magic, I guess." Dipper's expression betrayed his rising skepticism. "Look, I didn't even know that magic was real until yesterday. Before that, the weirdest thing I knew about was monster hunting teens, and before that it was ketchup on waffles! The amount of weirdness in my life has sky-rocketed, and on top of it all, my senses will not leave me alone! The sun is too bright, everyone is yelling at me, and that guy over there smells like sour milk." Without looking, Rowan pointed at an older man over 20 feet away. Dipper and Mabel looked at him and recognized a local dairy farmer, then turned amazed faces toward Rowan. Dipper removed his ever-present backpack and quickly dug out a note book and a pen.

"Do you mind if I write this down?"


End file.
